


'cause when my heart breaks (it always feels like the first time)

by notcaycepollard



Series: we don't need to (talk about it) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Captain America: Civil War Press Tour, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Strings Attached, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, my refrain while writing this was "sebastian you fucking idiot"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: It’s Sebastian who starts it.It’s Seb who breaks the ice, it’s Seb who puts this whole thing in motion, It’s Sebastian who sets the fuckingground rules, fuck, he knows exactly how this works.





	

It’s Sebastian who starts it.

It’s Seb who breaks the ice, it’s Seb who puts this whole thing in motion, it's Sebastian who sets the fucking _ground rules_ , fuck, he knows exactly how this works.

“So,” he says one evening, lounging carefully casual in Mackie’s hotel room, “you wanna fool around, or…?”

“That is _not_ where I figured tonight was going,” Anthony says, laughing a little like he’s surprised but maybe not in a bad way. Takes a moment to lean back and look at Sebastian, very seriously, and Seb forces himself to shrug like it’s no big deal.

“It’s no big deal,” he says, “it’s just, you know, I like you, we’re on tour, I figured maybe you might wanna…”

“What happens on tour stays on tour, is that it?”

“Yeah, that kind of thing,” Seb says. Tilts his head, bites his lip. “What, like you’ve never thought about it?”

“I mean,” Anthony says, and ducks his head, smiles out of the corner of his mouth. Sebastian really, really wants to touch his fingers to that smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Anthony agrees, more certain this time. Smiles just a little wider, blinks in a sweep of long and curling lashes. _God_ he’s pretty. “Yeah, baby, okay. Come here.”

It’s Seb who makes the move across the couch, leaning in closer and closer until suddenly there’s no distance between them at all and Sebastian is slanting his mouth against Anthony’s, parting his lips so he can drag his tongue in a sweet slow press along Anthony’s lower lip. He’s been waiting for this, if he’s been honest, waiting for the right time to suggest it, waiting for Mackie to flirt back, and it’s just as good as he thought it might be. Better, maybe. Mackie’s lips are soft and lush and he lets out a quiet little sigh, ducks his head again like he’s _shy_ , maybe, and Sebastian brushes his fingers against Anthony’s jaw, tilts his face back up, leans in for another kiss.

“Have you ever…”

“Yeah, of course,” Mackie says like he’s surprised Sebastian even has to ask. “Fuck, dude, I’m not a kid. You’re the kid here.”

“Okay, okay, I’m just checking. So, uh, I could suck your dick? You’d be into that?”

“Hell yes,” Mackie laughs. “Shit, have you _seen_ your mouth?” Sebastian sucks his lower lip into his mouth at that. Squeezes it under his teeth, releases it slowly. He does it so often it’s an unconscious gesture most of the time, but this is deliberate. Practiced just enough to be seductive, and he watches Anthony’s eyes widen a little, hears his breathing quicken.

“Oh,” Seb says, voice pitched lower than he means it to be, “this is gonna be so much fun,” and slides off the couch to his knees.

 

It is. It _is_ fun. They wind up in bed, sweaty and fucked-out, and Mackie traces his fingers up Seb’s spine, follows it with a trail of light kisses that leave Seb shivering.

“So,” he says easily, “what d’you want this to be, huh?”

“We can keep it casual,” Seb says. Shrugs, rolls onto his side. “I don’t do anything during filming, it fucks the dynamic. I mean, we’re done with Civil War, obviously, but… Anyway, just some no-strings fun, you know? I’m not looking to make a statement here.”

“Yeah, I feel you,” Mackie agrees. “This fucking industry, huh? That’s cool, man. I can work with that. You seeing anyone else?”

“Not at the moment,” Seb says, “but if you meet someone, it’s no big, y’know? I’m not gonna… I mean, I’m cool. It’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Anthony says more slowly, “okay. Cool.”

His fingers linger on Seb’s skin. Sebastian pushes his face into the pillow, closes his eyes for a second. Takes a deep breath.

“You up for round two?” he asks brightly, smiling very sharp. “Or I can take off, shit, we’re flying out to Seoul tomorrow.”

“Shit, we are,” Anthony groans like he’s just realizing how late it is. “I’m kinda done, man, but you should stay. Don’t feel like you gotta-”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Seb says. Rolls over and sits up, reaches for his shirt. “I should go. I’ll let you get some sleep. See you tomorrow, man.”

“Yeah,” Mackie says. Still a note in his voice, and then he yawns. Sits up and reaches for Seb’s wrist, squeezes it lightly before letting his hand drop. “Tomorrow, huh? Hey, thanks for- well, you know. I had fun.”

“Name of the game,” Seb says easily. “Press junkets like this are fuckin’ dull otherwise.” He tugs on his jeans, shoots Mackie a final grin. Lets himself out.

He’s back in his own room before he lets himself breathe. Just some no-strings fun. Parameters established, just like he’d planned. Everything’s fine. Everything’s _great_.

 

Everything keeps being great in Seoul and Shanghai and Tokyo. They fuck around and pal around in equal measures. Spend sleepy evenings stretched out on a couch or a bed in whatever hotel room, watching foreign tv without subtitles and trying to make up the plotlines. Mackie drags Seb out to eat, pressed in side by side in tiny back-alley restaurants and eating off each others’ plates, and Sebastian can never quite decide whether he’s having more fun when Mackie is making him laugh until his ribs ache or when he’s on his knees with Mackie’s dick in his mouth. Either way, it’s a good time.

 

It goes sideways in Singapore.

“Ugh, I can't move,” Anthony murmurs, hours after he first showed up in Seb’s hotel room. Splayed on his stomach in the bed, sheets draped over his ass, and Seb takes a minute to just look at him, because, seriously, _damn_. “Like, honest to god, shit, you wore me out. Is it cool if I sleep here? Promise I'm not a cuddler, you won't even know I'm here.”

 _Shit_ , Seb thinks, but there's no way to say no without it being weird. It's fine. He doesn't usually _sleep_ with- but it's fine, it's totally fine.

“Yeah,” he says lightly, “yeah, no problem. Just don't steal the blankets.”

“Scouts honor,” Mackie tells him, as if he was ever a boy scout. Stretches out a little more comfortably on one side of the bed as Sebastian gets up to go brush his teeth, turn out the lights.

By the time he comes back in, Anthony is asleep, breathing soft and slow. He's on his back, one hand tucked against his cheek, and Seb thinks, involuntary, about the tenderness of his upturned palm. The curl of his fingers, the way his lips are slightly parted. Mackie sighs in his sleep. Turns his face a little more into the pillow, and Sebastian slides into bed, lies down on his back. Even in the dark he can hear Anthony's breathing, can feel the weight and warmth of him. There's an intimacy to it that's terrifying.

 _Go to sleep_ , he tells himself, and shifts so his back is to Mackie. Forces himself to relax. It doesn't take as long as he expects.

He's almost asleep when Anthony rolls onto his side. Flings one arm out until his fingertips are just brushing Seb's hip. It's.

Fuck. It's good, it's terrible, it's a warm and gentle anchor, and Seb burns with it. Aches to turn over. To let himself be pulled into an embrace. Mackie is just like this, he tells himself. The kind of person who touches like it doesn't mean anything. He's always pressing a hand to Seb's shoulder, the back of his neck, his knee, even before they ever did a thing.

He holds himself very still until sleep creeps up on him. Falls asleep with Anthony's hand still on his hip. Tries not to think about how much it feels like being claimed, as if Anthony would actually-

 

They wake up together, early enough it’s before Sebastian’s alarm has gone off. Light just beginning to filter in around the edges of the drapes, and Seb has rolled over in the night so they’re curled in toward each other. It’s peaceful and quiet and Sebastian feels breathless in the half-awake stillness of it, like there’s suddenly unlimited potential. Possibilities unfolding around them.

“Morning, beautiful,” Anthony murmurs. Smiles very softly. “This is nice, huh?”

It is. It is nice, and maybe it’s because Seb is still half-asleep, but he lets himself think that. Enjoys it, for just a moment. Anthony reaches for him, tugs him in. Brushes a kiss to his forehead, another to his cheek, and his breath is stale from sleep but Sebastian finds himself not minding it. Thinking, _it could be like this every morning. We could be like this every morning._

“I gotta,” Seb says, voice rough, “I gotta get up. Work out. You should-”

“Oh,” Anthony says, “okay,” and pulls away. Scrubs a hand over his face. “Hey, thanks for letting me crash. I hope you slept alright.”

“Yeah, I slept just fine,” Seb says, hardly knowing what he's saying. Thinking about coffee in bed. Room service. The way Anthony had kissed his way down Sebastian’s spine that very first time. He can’t, he _can’t_ , he’s gotta-

He gets out of bed, not looking at Anthony. Goes to the bathroom, starts the shower running. Stands under the water for a long time.

When he gets out of the bathroom, Anthony is gone.

 

Things feel weird in the interviews that day. Maybe Seb is overthinking it, reading into things that aren’t there, but he’s half a beat off all day, tongue-tied, struggling.

 _Why aren't you looking at me_ , Sebastian asks, because he's never been good at not pushing down on a bruise, and Mackie just laughs.

“We're cool,” he says afterwards, “don’t worry about it, baby, we’re cool,” and god, Seb wants to believe him.

They don't sleep together again. They make out, they fool around, they fuck, but they don't _sleep together._ It's. Boundaries, Seb thinks, it's good, it's boundaries, keeping things neat and clear. It was a mistake to blur the lines. Things are just fine.

 

And then they’re in LA, actually _out_ in LA for once, and Seb’s three drinks down and feeling about as good as he ever feels. He’s overtired - when the fuck is he ever _not_ overtired, these days - but Mackie is sitting next to him, laughing bright and loud at every joke, and his thigh is pressing in a long line of warmth against Seb’s, hip to knee. Seb lets himself sway in just a little closer. Mackie stretches his arm along the back of the booth, his fingers brushing Seb’s hair, and Sebastian closes his eyes. Throws back his drink. Listens to the conversation going on around him.

“Be right back,” Mackie says a couple of minutes later, touching his fingers to the nape of Sebastian’s neck, “you want anything?”

“I’m good,” Seb says, lazy. Smiles at Anthony a little more open than he should, maybe. It’s- whatever, it’s dark and it’s LA, nobody cares, Chris is in the middle of an intense conversation, nobody _cares_.

Five minutes go by, and then ten. Seb draws his finger around the rim of his glass. Traces patterns in the condensation on the table. It’s fine, it’s fucking fine, it’s just a busy club, Mackie is a celebrity, it’s not like they’re on a date, fuck.

 

He waits another five minutes before he gets up. He’s gotta get a new drink anyway. Pushes his way to the bar, waits in the crowd until a spot opens up. Ordering tequila is objectively stupid. He knows that. He orders it anyway. Spots Mackie across the bar, finally, and is halfway there before he spots how Anthony is smiling down at a pretty girl. Leaning in to whisper something in her ear, and Sebastian can tell what flirting looks like on Anthony from ten yards away because, shit, he’s seen it directed at him like a hundred different times.

He’s totally fine with this. He set these boundaries. No-strings, he knew that going in. He’s about to turn around and head back to the group when Mackie glances up, spots him, smiles wide. _Shit_.

“Hey,” he says, making the best of the situation. Smiles carefully at the woman Anthony is chatting up. She really is exceptionally pretty. “Whatever he’s telling you, I promise it’s a lie.”

“Oh, what _ever_ ,” Mackie says. Shoves his shoulder. “Ignore him, okay, this guy. You doing alright, man?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just-” Seb holds up his drink. _I came to find you_ , he wants to say, except it feels wrong now. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Sebastian, it’s real nice to meet you.”

“Brittany,” she says, only looking a little star-struck. “You having a good time?”

“Hell yeah, I am. Not sure what timezone I’m in, honestly, Mackie’s probably told you how jetlagged he is, but yeah, it’s nice to be back. You out with friends?”

“I was supposed to be,” she laughs, “I have no idea where they are, they’re always late.”

“Oh, well, come hang with us!” he offers. Feeling weird about it, like, how the fuck does he act like a normal human person, but apparently the face he makes is convincing enough, because she glances at Mackie, leans in a bit closer.

“Really? I wouldn’t want to crash your party.”

“No, no, I swear. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah?” she asks. Glances at Mackie again, and he smiles at her, which is apparently all the convincing she needs. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

“Hell, Mackie’ll even get the next round, right?”

“Stop angling for me to buy you a drink, man,” Anthony tells him indulgently. Seb can’t help but notice how he touches his hand to the small of Brittany’s back as they work their way through the crowd to their booth. This time, Seb takes the seat on the other side of the table. Lets Mackie and Brittany slide in together.

 

He finishes his drink, and the next drink, and the next. Watches Mackie and Brittany talking, how Mackie threads his fingers through her hair. Laughs softly at all her jokes. Suddenly Seb needs a cigarette, is desperate for one, and pushes away from the booth, grabs his jacket, heads for the smoking area. Mackie raises an eyebrow as he goes, and Sebastian doesn’t quite make eye contact. Just nods, a smile that feels like a rictus and he hopes to fuck doesn’t look like one.

“Sebastian,” Mackie calls. Reaches out, grabs his arm, and Seb pauses. Bites his lip. Turns around.

“What’s up? Just going out for a smoke, I won’t be long. You should take off though. If you want to, I mean. It’s cool. The others are still hanging for a while, I think.”

“Dude,” Mackie says, more serious than Seb wants, “are you-”

“I’m fine,” Seb says. Smiles very wide, feeling it brittle at the corners. “Yeah, man, I’m-”

“You’re sure it’s okay,” Mackie asks again, “if I…”

“Sure, yeah, totally,” Seb agrees. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be. Shit, Mackie, go talk to your girl, I need a smoke, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow if I don’t see you, huh?”

“Right,” Mackie says, eyes searching, “okay. See you later, man.”

“Yeah,” Seb says. Lets his eyes crinkle in a smile, leans in conspiratorially close. “She's real cute, okay, you should take her home. Or get her number at least.” He pulls away before he lets himself think about the heat of Mackie's skin, the smell of whisky on his breath. Tugs on his jacket, winks at Mackie, turns away.

 

When he takes out his cigarettes, his hands are shaking so much he can't even get one lit at first.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, “ _fuck_ ,” and flexes his fingers, bites his lip so vicious he's surprised it doesn't start bleeding.

He smokes through the cigarette quick. Lights another, knowing he shouldn't. He quit, he worked so hard to quit, made promises to his mom and his voice coach, Don at the gym, _himself_ , fuck, but it burns so good in the back of his throat and the jittery haze of nicotine is all he wants right now.

He's feeling some kind of weird. Sick to his stomach. Shouldn't have had that last drink, perhaps, and he's been out here for like an hour in the warm LA wind, throat raw with smoke. He swallows hard. Takes a deep breath.

He's just tired, that's all, it's been a long tour, a pressure cooker the way it always is. He needs to get back to reality, his own life, none of this softly liminal hotel room bullshit that makes him feel like anything might be possible. It's not. He knows that. It's a glittery lie, the kind Hollywood always tells, and Seb can feel how seductive it is even as he takes another deep breath, blinks hard. He can't melt down in public. There's nothing to melt down over. He's just. He's so fucking _tired._

He spots Chris’ broad shoulders and dark hair, face turned like he's looking for Seb, and Sebastian waves an arm to get his attention. Smiles at Jenny, tucked a little back in the crowd. She's great, she's so great, Seb always has a few feelings when he's around the both of them together. Usually, if he's being honest, a little jealousy pricking at his heart.

“Hey, man, I thought you'd left,” Chris says. Glances down at the empty pack of cigarettes. “Aw, Sebastian, you're back in it? You were doing so good at quitting.”

“No, no, I promise. Just tonight. I didn't slip up, I just…”

“Hey, no big. You're an adult. We're heading off, is all. You all good to get back?”

“Yeah, yeah, I should go too. Did Mackie leave already?” He's proud of how casually he asks, like it's no big deal.

It's no big deal. It's never been a big deal.

“Oh yeah, they took off a while ago. Avoided the paps, even, fuck if I know how.”

“That's,” Seb says, “that’s good. Gotta give him shit about that tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chris laughs, “yeah, for sure.” Looks Seb up and down. Frowns slightly. “You okay?” he asks, and Seb glances up at him. Frowns. Nods, lets his eyes fall half-shut.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says easily. “Just tired, you know how it is. We’re so close to the end I’m being irresponsible just because I can.”

“I feel you,” Chris agrees, laughing a little, and Sebastian feels the smallest flash of guilt. If Chris was sober, he’d see through this, stare all concerned and thoughtful at Seb until he caved, but Sebastian’s a fucking good actor, and Chris isn’t sober. “Get some sleep, buddy, we’ve got another big one tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Seb says with feeling. “Go on, you should take off. I’m about to leave myself, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, “okay.” Claps Seb on the shoulder as he leaves, pulling back on a ball cap as if that’ll actually make any difference. It’s LA. Nobody gives a shit.

Seb guesses he should make good on what he’s just said and get back to the hotel before he makes some kind of worse than usual decision. It’s tempting not to - to stay and have one more drink, a line of coke, an ill-advised club bathroom hook-up, fuck, _anything_ \- but he pulls out his phone, stares at it for a minute and unlocks it.

 _If you’re drunk, use the car service_ , says the Marvel PR rep in his head, and, contrary, Sebastian calls an Uber.

His hands are still shaking a little as he smokes one last cigarette. Just jitters, he thinks, just- he’s _tired_ , that’s all, and flicks the butt into the gutter.

“Hey,” says his Uber driver, “hey, you’re that guy. The winter soldier!”

“That’s me,” Sebastian agrees, and his voice is very steady.

 

It’s late, it’s very late, when he gets back to the hotel room, and he really should go to bed. He doesn't. Just changes into his sweats, the hotel bathrobe, settles back on the bed and all five hundred of its pillows, and turns on the TV. Flicks idly through the cable movies on offer.

Jesus, there are a lot with Mackie in them. Seb knows, objectively, that he's had a lot of work, but- there are just a lot, that's all. He chooses one. Starts it playing, and it's like pressing down on a bruise, like biting the inside of his lip and discovering he can't quite resist sucking at it, tonguing over the raw spot until it stings. It's stupid, it's _fucking stupid_ , he asked for this himself. Set these boundaries, and it was always a relief, he was always _relieved_ , it had to be a certain way and now is no different.

It's just.

There's a knock at his door. Seb's brain spins ahead in a matter of seconds. Imagines Mackie, that softly curious expression in his eyes. Shy, maybe, like he had been the first time Sebastian kissed him, or jaw squared with determination. _We need to talk about this, man, whatever is going on with you, something is up and you're being weird about it. What do you even want from this, Sebastian. From us._

It's terrifying even to contemplate. _I want-_ Seb thinks to himself, and pauses the film, answers the door.

Not Mackie. The girl from hotel reception, looking apologetic and attentive even at three in the morning.

“So sorry to disturb you,” she says, “it’s just. Your Uber driver handed this in downstairs, said you'd left it in his car.” Hands him his cellphone, and Sebastian has a moment of simultaneous panic and relief. Vows to track down that driver and give him the hugest tip ever, because he knows enough about this industry to realize most people would have sold his phone straight to the nearest gossip magazine, or cracked his lock screen and uploaded all his secrets to the internet. Nothing outrageous in there, he's smart enough to delete anything incriminating, but enough he wants to keep private, holy shit, thank _fuck_.

“Oh my god,” he says, autopilot, “thank you so much.” Shuts the door, thumbs his phone unlocked. No text messages. It’s not really like he expected there to be any.

 

Seb spends way too long the next morning fiddling with his hair. Thinking and re-thinking his outfit. It’s just a fucking t-shirt and jeans and a bomber jacket, nothing difficult, this is how he dresses all the goddamn time, it makes no fucking difference.

When he gets down to the car Marvel have sent over he’s got the jitters again. He and Anthony are at the same hotel but they’ve been sent separate cars for some reason. The nature of celebrity, maybe. They don’t share.

He kind of wants a cigarette. Knew that was what he was setting himself up for, these cravings flaring up again, and doesn’t quite regret it even as he thinks that Past Sebastian really made some fucking choices, alright. Maybe one day he’ll learn. He kind of doubts that.

“Hey,” he says to the driver, “can we go via Starbucks?”

“Yeah, of course,” the driver agrees. Takes them through the drive-through, and Seb gets a venti iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso. Washes a couple Advil down, puts on his sunglasses against the glare of the LA sky. Sucks down his coffee in about five huge mouthfuls. When he makes it to the studio he’s still chewing on the straw, but at least it’s not his lip; he’s been told off in no uncertain terms by makeup every time he shows up with it chewed swollen. Mackie is waiting in the green room. Glances up from his phone and gives Seb a complicated expression.

“You okay?”

“Kind of hungover,” Seb admits. “I’ll be fine once I get more coffee. You want anything?”

“I- nah, I’m good,” Anthony tells him, face still going through a series of emotions, and Sebastian books it, tries to hunt down an assistant who’ll go on another Starbucks run. He feels like a coward. His stomach is doing a thing again like it’s twisting in on itself.

 

They have to sit in the same room eventually, Seb knows that. Knows he’s being stupid, blowing it out of proportion, he’s just got to be fucking _normal_. Braced with fresh Starbucks, he settles down into the couch in the corner. Tries to look involved with his phone, reading and re-reading an email from his agent about a new TV role. The words swim in his head and don’t string together into legible sentences. _Fuck_ , he’s hungover.

“I regret everything about last night,” he groans, “fucking _tequila_ , oh my god.”

“Shit,” Anthony commiserates, because he is a better person than Sebastian. “You didn’t seem that drunk. You stay there a while?”

“Oh, late enough,” Seb prevaricates. “I’m okay. Just whining. Did you have a good time? Seemed like you did, huh.”

“I, uh,” Mackie starts. Frowns a little before smiling. “Yeah, she’s nice, right? You’re really sure you’re cool with it?”

It’s the question Sebastian’s been waiting for. Play it _cool_ , Jesus, he’s not an actor for nothing.

“Hey, I said no-strings, right? Always figured it was a possibility. It’s totally cool. I’m just happy you’re happy, right?”

“Well, I mean,” Mackie says, ducking his head and smiling like he’s remembering something sweet, “it might be nothing, but. Y’know, I’ll see how it goes.”

“Hey, that’s awesome,” Seb says. Tries not to sound too excited, like, how excited is appropriate for a platonic friend here? It’s difficult to gauge the right tone, especially when Mackie looks up at him, tilts his head.

“I was a little worried, man, you were being kind of weird last night, but if you’re really fine with it…”

“Oh, dude, I was just fucked,” Seb says. Be chill, be _chill_ , fuck. “Jet lag, right? And this press tour, it’s been intense, I can’t wait to be home already.”

“ _Home_ ,” Mackie groans, “shit, don’t say it until we’re there.” And just like that, they’re settling into a rhythm again, making fun of Chris because they’re so fucking jealous he’s got a house in LA, Mackie grabbing Seb’s coffee to drink half of it like he’s forgotten normal friends don’t do that. It’s a relief and it hurts all at once. Sebastian should just be happy with this. It’s like he doesn’t know how.

The press tour is over anyway.

Sebastian started this.

He should finish it.

**Author's Note:**

> brought to you by the entire carly rae e*mo*tion side b
> 
> me @ coffeeinallcaps and @poziomeczka: I feel like my end note is going to be "don't feel sorry for Sebastian he's a dick who's doing this to himself, feel sorry for Mackie who is being severely underappreciated and dicked around by this emotionally-repressed little shit"  
> also me: shit he can't help it tho it's not his fault he needs five hundred years of therapy to get over this bucket of intimacy issues
> 
>  
> 
> A N Y W A Y there is gonna be a sequel don't u worry about that


End file.
